


Son of Summer

by FunkyinFishnet



Series: Herne's Sons [4]
Category: Robin of Sherwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, Childbirth, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Friendship, Future Fic, Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The outlaws are hindered in their attempts to escape from Gisburne and his men when Marion starts to go into labour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of Summer

"Robin! Robin!" Much burst through the trees, gasping. "It's Marion! She says the baby's coming!"

There was a rush of noise, everyone talking at once, but Robert didn't hear any of it. His heart and stomach lurched sickeningly. This couldn't be happening now. Margaret pressed insistently against his legs, calling his name like a question. He stroked a hand through his foster daughter's hair, the soothing motion not entirely for her benefit alone.

"We can't stay here, the soldiers aren't far off," Will pointed out.

"We could go to Wickham," piped up Much. "They'd help us."

"How?" Will wanted to know.

"They're starting the Blessing feast," Robert's world became clear and sharp again. "How is she, Much?"

"She can't move. She's tried walking, but the pain's too bad. Tuck was praying."

Robert's heart pounded. Gisburne's soldiers weren't going to leave the forest until they got back the chest of tax money the outlaws had taken that day. Not when King John was expecting the taxes in only two days time.

"We'll go ahead, Father," Margaret spoke up, determination filling her young eyes. "We'll tell Wickham."

"We'll hide you," added Matthew from Margaret's side, bow hitched over one arm artlessly. "I know we will."

Robert paused before answering, touching Margaret's shoulder and holding her gaze. There was a chance he could lose every piece of his family today. He swallowed that thought down.

"Be careful."

The children nodded and ran, disappearing almost immediately amongst the trees. They knew how to be invisible. Robert silently called on Herne. It felt like begging.

_Guide me. Keep her safe. Keep us safe. Show me what to do._

Wind stirred the trees around them. Will had his sword drawn and Nasir was still up high in the branches of a nearby tree, keeping watch.

"Take us to them, Much," Robert told him.

Marion and Tuck had started to walk from the camp once the pains had set in, but they hadn't gotten far. Marion was struggling to keep her voice quiet. Robert held her, smoothing her hair off her sweating forehead, and gazed into her already hazy eyes, trying to let her know he was there. He smiled for her as his mind grasped for answers and safety. He held tightly to Herne.

_Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me._

"We'll need a stretcher," he realised. "Will, Tuck, quickly!"

Nasir appeared, sliding one of his swords back into its holster. His expression was grim but satisfied.

"Two are dead," he announced. "There are more."

"How far away are they?" Robert asked, feeling the pressure of Marion's hand in his.

"Not far."

"Here." Will thrust the hastily-constructed stretcher in front of the couple. "Come on!"

Once Marion, trembling and pale, was seated, Will, Tuck, and Robert lifted the stretcher, while Nasir followed on guard. Much was gathering plants.

"Come on, Much!" hissed Will after a particularly bad stumble through a tangle of roots.

"I've got plants. They're for a draught that Jane makes to keep pain away," Much told them. "It might help Marion."

"Jane! Could you fetch her?" demanded Robert. Perhaps the baby wouldn't come just yet and there would be time for Jane to travel from Elderford.

"There's someone that needed her in Hathersage," replied Much unhappily. "She'd help if she was here. I know she would."

Thankfully, it wasn't too long before Wickham came into sight and then Little John with Matthew and Margaret at his side. He easily and carefully scooped up Marion from the stretcher.

"There's a hut ready for you. Come on." He led the way, the noises of the Blessing celebrations getting louder. "You're safe now, lass."

The villagers crowded around as soon as the outlaws reached them, worried and curious. Edward pushed his way through, greeting his friends as Alison comforted Marion with soft words.

"My friends, time is short," Edward addressed the villagers. "Are we agreed on what should be done?"

There were mostly nods and sounds of agreement and Edward turned to the outlaws with a smile.

"Come, Martha's waiting."

*

Edward explained the plan as Marion was made comfortable and Martha took charge. Alison stayed with her and the others sheltered in Edward's home.

"Whatever noise comes from that hut won't be heard over the celebrations," Edward told them. "Don't you worry."

"Yeah? What if Gisburne wants to search the village?" asked Will.

"Then we leave," Robert answered.

"Aye, Martha'll come with you. She won't leave Marion while she's birthing," confirmed Edward.

Nasir slipped into the crowd. He nodded to Will; there were no approaching soldiers yet and no one hiding in the village. Much rushed past, a steaming mug in his hand.

"Here, it's Jane's draught. I made it," he told Marion, as Martha knelt at her feet with her sleeves rolled up. "She gave it to me when I hurt my head."

"I remember," Marion smiled weakly.

"What are you giving her, boy?" Martha took the cup and sniffed its contents. "Mint, bay………."

"Jane taught me how to make it," Much stated proudly. "Takes away pain, she says."

"Jane of Elderford?" Martha guessed with a nod. "She has the gift for it."

Much beamed and left at Martha's request. She was eyeing Marion with a practised gaze, watching for every movement and wince of pain.

"You've not long to go," she told Marion. "You need to save your strength."

Little John stayed on guard outside the hut, Meg taking charge of the children who were trying to look in. Meg and John's own toddler, Ruth, was playing in the dirt at her parents' feet. She looked completely content, as she always did during the times her father stayed in Wickham.

Food and drink were brought for the waiting outlaws. Mary took some to Nasir, blushing and smiling when his fingers curved her cheek as a thank-you. Robert was tense. He'd known too many people without mothers, lost during childbirth. Had the dangerous life Marion had led in the forest affected her own chances, and their child's chances, of survival?

_Herne……._

The cries started. Robert sprang to his feet. Edward immediately called the villagers away and the celebrations seemed to whirl faster after that. The noise and laughter and music grew and the colours blurred, or, at least it seemed that way to Robert. Much hid amongst the musicians, playing his flute, and Will headed off to the village perimeter.

"Can you see anyone?" Robert called to Matthew, who sat on the barn's roof.

"No," Matthew shook his head. "But Herne's here, I can feel him."

Robert nodded, he could feel it too. Matthew was growing up, getting tall and rangy and serious. He taught Margaret about Herne and the ways of the forest. They were already a team, sometimes moving as one person.

"It'll be a long wait," Little John warned as Robert reached him and Tuck. "Could be safer to get away from Wickham, for you and the villagers."

Robert shook his head. "If we run, Gisborne'll catch us."

"Aye, and we can't hide in the forest. They'll hear Marion," pointed out Tuck.

The villagers celebrated with gusto, lighting torches once the sky began to darken. And, all the time, Marion cried, and Herne's presence was steady. Robert began to pace.

Margaret joined him, straw from the roof she'd been keeping watch from on her clothing and her feet heavy in the dust. She flinched when Marion cried loudly, the noise becoming a pained sob. Robert kept her close. She'd already been through more than any child should. The last thing her birth mother had told her was that everything would be all right.

"She's in pain," he said quietly, keeping his voice steady for her. "But Martha's looking after her."

Margaret nodded, that scared look still in her eyes. Robert softly pressed his knuckles to her chin.

"We'll protect her," Margaret declared decidedly.

"We will."

An arrow hit the doorway of the hut beside them, lightly enough to bounce off harmlessly. Matthew was waving from his rooftop.

"There's five soldiers," relayed Margaret, interpreting the gestures Matthew was making high above his head. "And Gisborne's with them."

Nasir materialised at their side, nodding and pointing to something beyond the tree line. He'd seen the soldiers as well. Will was nervy, bursting at the seams.

"We need to go now!"

Robert slipped inside the hut. Focusing his gaze in the dimness, he could see his wife, her hair spread over the blankets like liquid fire and her skin glistening with effort. It was beautiful and terrifying, squeezing his heart hard. He could be seeing life beginning and life ending.

"What do you want?"

That was Martha, crouched at Marion's legs with intent and irritation deepening the lines on her face. Robert breathed in peat smoke and blood.

"The soldiers are coming. Can she be moved?"

"She'll have to be, won't she?" Martha was brisk, on her feet and ready. "The babe will be with us soon."

"We need the stretcher," Robert told the others. "And someone needs to stay here. We can't leave Wickham undefended. Nasir?"

The Saracen nodded, disappearing from view. He would make sure he was undetected and could follow their trail to meet up with them later, once Wickham was safe again.

"She's ready," Martha announced.

John and Will elbowed their way in with the stretcher, Tuck not far behind. Matthew brought Much, extracted from the musicians. Margaret stuck close to Robert and exchanged a silent look with Matthew. It seemed to be a promise.

They made it out of Wickham just as Gisboune's shouts, and the drum beat of hooves could be heard. Martha made them stop when they were deep into the forest and Marion's cries could no longer be contained behind her teeth.

"The child cannot wait," Martha told them as she hunkered down before Marion, who sobbed with pain.

"Yeah? Well, we can't stay here. There's no cover," protested Will.

"If Martha says we stay, we stay," Robert replied, his eyes fixed on his wife and his temper short.

John rested a heavy hand on Robert's shoulder. "We'll keep watch. Come on, lad."

Much scrambled up a tree to gain a better vantage point, Margaret choosing another on the opposite side of the clearing, and Will, throwing an expression over his shoulder that managed to be both worried and furious, marched off to be the first defence against any soldiers coming from Wickham. John steered Robert in a slow-searching circle around the clearing for anywhere they could hide Marion should an attack come.

"The waiting's the worse part," John acknowledged awkwardly, speaking with the memories of Ruth's birth.

Robert sighed. The sharp cry of pain that cut through the air, loud and anguished, cut through him too.

"What if……."

A bird-like hoot from behind them halted Robert's words. They weren't the only ones to hear Marion's pain. Margaret was leaning half out of her tree to listen to what Much was saying, when Robert and John reached them.

"There's soldiers and Gisburne," Much relayed, his eyes wide. "Will's there too and Nasir."

"You stay with Margaret. Keep Marion safe," Robert told them, making sure to catch Margaret's eye. "And stay hidden."

She looked suddenly much older than her years as she notched an arrow to her bow. This wasn't the life for a child. But thanks to the Sheriff, there weren't many other options. She could be hidden, taken into a nunnery, perhaps, where the Sheriff couldn't find her and use her as bait. Margaret would only run back to Sherwood, she'd told him she would. And now, Robert was responsible for bringing another child into this danger.

Soldiers were swarming around Nasir and Will. But there was no sign of Gisburne. John didn't seem to notice, launching himself through the trees loudly. Robert was close behind him, sword drawn. It was then that Gisburne appeared, swinging into view from the tree line and heading straight for Robert. Their swords met in a strained stalemate blow, leaving them glaring at each other beneath the metal arch their weapons formed.

"Those taxes belong to the King!" Gisburne hissed, his face red with fury.

"No, they belong to his people."

Robert could feel his arms burning as he fought off Gisburne, the soldiers around him thinning out thanks to the others' efforts. It was only once Gisburne realised he was alone and surrounded by outlaws that he fled, spitting revenge. Will glared and cursed when Robert told them to leave Guy to run. The Sheriff's steward had no clue that he was about to become an uncle.

There was no more crying in the clearing, only the bodies of soldiers. Then there was a rustle and Margaret slid down her tree. She flung her arms around Robert's waist fiercely as Much called out that there were no more soldiers coming this way.

Will cut straight to what the others wouldn't ask. "Where's Marion?"

"Over here." Margaret led them to a thicker patch of trees.

Martha was visible first, wiping her bloodied hands on her skirts. Robert took a deep dizzying breath and felt the others' steady presence. Herne, like the background noise of the forest, was a welcome comfortable feeling. Robert took Margaret's hand in his.

_Herne protect us_

With a few steps, Marion came into view. She didn't see him; her gaze was fixed on the bundle wrapped up in her arms. A tiny breathing bundle. A baby.

Margaret was already sliding out of his grasp and slipping down the slope towards them. Marion raised her head at the noise and smiled, tired but very much alive. They both were, mother and child. Margaret tucked herself into Marion's side, not wanting to let her go, and reached out a hand to the child, stroking the tiny face that could be seen. Robert was looking at his family.

"He's healthy," Martha announced from beside him. "A little small, but he struggled out. He's a fighter. I'd expect nothing less."

Robert couldn't form a reply and his legs felt weak as he headed down the curve of the land towards his family. Marion's smile was warm as he cupped her face. Contentment shone from within her.

Robert's hands drifted to his son. The little boy was sleeping and Margaret was snuggled against Marion, watching her baby brother.

"We have a son," Robert stated, wonder and pride almost overwhelming him.

_Thank you, Herne._

*

When Marion felt strong enough to move, the group returned to the camp. It was there, under the shelter, with Margaret sleeping deeply and their son unexpectedly quiet, that Marion told Robert what she had experienced during the birthing.

"It was Robin." Her words were quiet, still laced with a well-worn sadness. "I know it sounds like a dream."

"What happened?"

"He put his hand on my shoulder, when the pain was at its worst, and he smiled." Marion smiled herself at the memory, wistful and wondering.

She curled up under the blankets and against Robert, her head pillowed trustingly on his chest. The simple necklace he had presented to her on their wedding day clinked as she moved. The silence stretched on.

"What do you think it meant?" he asked quietly at last.

Marion gave no answer; she was already deep into sleep after the exhaustion and trial of her day. Robert felt the cool metal of her necklace and heard his son whimper in the darkness. They all slept through the night.

*

The next day favoured them with sunshine and Robert and Marion stood ankle-deep in the river as Herne approached. Marion had wanted to bathe, though she was still weak and pale and leaning on Robert for support, and Robert had felt Herne lead him. The others watched from the river bank.

Herne didn't say a word, but rested his hand lightly on the boy's head. The baby watched Herne, curious and chuckling in delighted sounds. Margaret stayed close, her eyes never leaving her brother.

When Herne straightened, Robert thought he had seen the old man smile. But it could have been a trick of the waving shadows, and Herne was only there a moment before he seemed to fade away into the sunlight. There was a short silent pause, the forest moving around them, before Margaret placed a garland of wild flowers on her brother's head, startling Marion into laughter.

"I've crowned him a son of summer!" Margaret declared happily.

There were hand-woven bracelets of wild grasses and flowers around her own wrists. She'd told Marion once that her mother used to weave them whenever they stopped to rest on the road. Margaret made them for the Nottinghamshire children she met.

"He got a name yet?" Will called.

Marion trickled a handful of water over her son's head, smiling at the wide-eyed look and wave of his hands she got in return. Margaret had sat down, kicking the river water at Much, who was splashing her back as Tuck got John into the water with an almighty shove. Nasir laughed at them all from the safety of the bank, always keeping watch.

"Richard," replied Robert, the proud full smile on his face directed at his wife and children.

Marion smiled back, feeling his kiss, and watched their son. As the shadows from the tree branches moved over his face, she thought she glimpsed him smiling with her father's smile. It warmed her more than the sunlight ever could.

_-the end_


End file.
